


The Warden's Rest

by LunaMoth116



Series: Arya [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Afterlife, Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Gen, Mother-Daughter Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-03
Updated: 2014-05-03
Packaged: 2018-01-21 17:36:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1558550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaMoth116/pseuds/LunaMoth116
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arya Surana sacrificed everything to save Ferelden.  Even in death, however, she may have gained more than she gave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Warden's Rest

**Author's Note:**

> _You might know my Warden Arya Surana from her cameo appearances in the Circleverse, or from her standalone story “Virtue”. If you've read “A Small Sacrifice”, you know her story...does not end well. Though I haven't written about her much, after including her in the Circleverse, I couldn't just leave her like that. So I wrote this. You don't need to have read anything else she's featured in to follow this story, but if you enjoy this one, why not try the others? :) If you like, play_[ _“In Uthenera”_](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EAANKFPchtA) _while reading. It really fits the mood._  
>  _For Stef: It's partly your fault that I had such a hard time letting her go. :P Thank you. :)_
> 
> **Disclaimer:** _I don't own anything you see here, especially not Arya. Not anymore, anyway._

“ _Death and love are the two things that bear the good man to heaven.”_

_~ Michelangelo_

 

Blackness.

A silent void.

Then...

Blink.

A sliver of light inching across her vision.

Blink.

The light rippling, shifting with the landscape.

Blink.

Tendrils of mist curling over her face.

Arya Surana slowly eased her eyes open. As she gained her bearings, she found herself prone on her back, gazing upwards at a yellow-tinted sky, cloudless yet foggy. Gradually, she regained awareness of her arms and legs, and the cool sensation of mist wrapping around her bare limbs. Looking down at herself, she saw she was clad in her favorite robes, the ones she'd worn proudly to the last battle, that Leliana had helped her pick out at the Wonders of Thedas so long ago. A lifetime ago.

She bit her lip, remembering now how Leliana had exclaimed that the high collar had fit her long neck perfectly and the shimmering lyrium strands looked just right with her skin tone, while Arya had stared, only half-listening, and thought of how the blue brought out her lover's eyes.

Little by little, she carefully pulled herself to sit up. The only scent in the air was occasional mistings of...raw lyrium? Propping herself on her elbows, she looked around. A craggy landscape dotted with gnarled, leafless trees, stretching as far as she could see...and in the distance, a shadowy city hung chained just above the horizon, twisted spires reaching into the eternal night like clawed fingers clinging to a yawning gap.

Her eyes widened as she shook herself fully awake. There was no doubt as to where she was.

“Wait,” she said aloud as her head cleared. “What's going on? I shouldn't be here! My soul was supposed to have been destroyed...wasn't it?”

Was it possible she was still alive? A sliver of hope leapt into her heart at the thought.

Within seconds, however, she knew it wasn't so. Whenever she had entered or drawn on the Fade in life, she had always felt a tenuous connection keeping her tied to the real world. She felt no such link here. She no longer carried only a piece of the Fade inside her; she had _become_ a part of it, as naturally as tree roots sink into soil. There was no going back, no waking up.

She wondered what had happened as she managed to get to her feet, noting she had no staff, rings or necklace, and only her robe and boots for clothing – sufficient for modesty without frippery, her preferred style of dress. Had the Wardens been wrong about what happened when the Archdemon died?

For that matter, how did they know, exactly? All they knew for sure was that when the Archdemon perished, so did the Warden who slew it. Perhaps neither soul was destroyed in the process, but both were simply taken at the same time, for reasons Arya couldn't even begin to speculate about.

If nothing else, she knew for certain Urthemiel was gone, too. Their connection had shattered the moment she'd driven Starfang into his skull and the world was swallowed by light. She glanced around, but saw no sign of him. Closing her eyes briefly, she whispered a quiet prayer for his soul. Wherever he was, whatever had happened to him, she hoped he was finally at peace, uncorrupted and untainted as he had once been.

Opening her eyes, she shook her head. What the Wardens believed, or what had really happened, didn't matter now. What mattered was that she was here, and she needed to figure out what to do next.

Looking around, she saw the landscape that had always been familiar to her, that she had been connected with since birth, but yet remained as foreign and distant as the Tevinter Imperium every time she returned.

She sighed, quiet acceptance beginning to grow in her heart.

_You chose this, remember?_

Yes. She had.

_But they didn't know that_.

Tears stung her eyes; in the emptiness surrounding her, she let them fall freely. Leliana, Finn, Alistair, Zevran, her beloved dog, all of her companions and the friends she'd made along the way...she'd done it for them. Would they ever understand? Could they ever forgive her leaving? She'd left gifts and letters for each one of them, but any answers to their questions would be confined strictly to those final words – and it would never be enough.

Her own losses had taught her that all too well.

Looking off into the distance again, she laid eyes on the Black City. As subtly, yet persuasively, as the darkspawn had called to her in life, she felt the once-bright home of the Maker beckoning her to come. And she knew there was nowhere else to go.

_Of course_ , she thought, sighing. _I don't even get to rest_ now.

Oh, well. There was no use complaining. All she could do was move on, as she had in life. As she hoped the friends and loved ones she'd left behind, whom she was here for, would do.

Taking a deep breath, she set off on yet another journey.

 o~O~o

As Arya walked along, the fatigue that began to overtake her was purely mental. She could not even begin to guess at how long she'd been walking or how far she'd traveled. Time and geography meant nothing here. She kept her eyes fixed on her goal, though she slowly began to lose interest as it never seemed to come even slightly closer within her reach. But there was nothing else to seek, nothing else to do. And so she kept walking, tired soul and all.

She came up over a hill – one of many – to look down on a flatter landscape. As her gaze took in the amorphous, chaotically-patterned grey, something appeared in the corner of her eye. Turning her head, she gasped on seeing what it was.

An elven woman was sitting underneath a tree. She appeared to be in her mid-thirties, slender and petite, fair-skinned with black hair tucked neatly behind her pointed ears, falling in graceful waves to her shoulders. She wore a simple, practical dress and shoes, of a style typical to elves. As Arya came closer, she saw the woman's small, flush mouth moving, though she could not make out any sound. When she had slipped down the hill and was only a short distance away, she realized the woman was singing.

She frowned. Something about this woman seemed so familiar – the way she looked, the way she sounded...everything. But she could not place her. The only certainty was that, for once, she could be sure the woman wasn't a demon. What would a Fade spirit, malevolent or otherwise, want with someone long departed from their physical form?

“Hello?” Arya called out.

The woman stopped singing and looked up. Her dark, luminous eyes met Arya's, and for a single moment the two froze as they stared at each other. Slowly, the woman rose and began to approach her. Arya was fixed to where she stood, unable to move or even breathe. (How was it possible that she even drew breath in this world?)

“ _Da'len?_ ” the woman asked, her voice as soft as her eyes.

Arya gulped. _Little one?_ she thought. _Can...can it really be...?_

“My – my name is –” She stopped, choking on the word.

The woman was mere steps away now, holding out her arms. “Arya. My own dear, brave Arya.”

Arya gasped, the last of her breath spent on crying a single, treasured word as she ran to close the distance between them.

“ _Mamae!_ ”

The two elven women fell into each other's arms. “Oh, my precious girl...” Lavanya Surana murmured into her only daughter's hair, soothingly rubbing her back. They clung together for a long time, the only sounds they made being Arya's sobs and Lavanya's answering words of comfort.

“ _Mamae, Mamae..._ ” Arya repeated, finally allowed to use a title she had not been able to call anyone since childhood, in a language that had been her birthright, trampled long ago by fear and hate.

“Oh, _da'len_ ,” her mother whispered, her voice thick, “how I've missed you.”

“I've missed you too, _Mamae_ ,” Arya choked out.

After a while, Lavanya took hold of her daughter's shoulders and stepped back. “Let me look at you. You're even more beautiful than I imagined you'd be.”

Arya smiled through her tears. “I take after you, don't I?”

Her mother's eyes were suspiciously bright. “You do, indeed. Oh, my Arya, how I've longed to see you.” She bit her lip. “I am sorry I was never able to be there for you as a mother should.”

“Oh, _Mamae_ , it wasn't your fault.” Arya shook her head, still smiling. “You're here for me now, aren't you?”

Lavanya's smile mirrored her daughter's. “Now and always.”

They said nothing for a time, simply taking in the sight of each other, something so simple that they had never been able to have for far too many years. And as Arya saw her own features reflected in her mother's, she mustered the courage for the only question that came to mind.

“Have you seen...my father?” she asked hesitantly, more curious than hopeful.

Lavanya slowly shook her head. “I have not, _da'len_. I do not know whether that is because he still lives, or because his Creators met him elsewhere in the Beyond. As you well know, this world holds as many mysteries as that of the living – perhaps more.”

Arya sighed, though without much disappointment. “I suppose it was too much to hope for.” After a pause, she added, “I looked for him all over Ferelden...but I'm not sure if I even want to see him, truly. He chose not to know me; why should I want to know him? He can be with his Creators if that's what makes him happy. I just...I just wanted to see him once. I always wore his ring, so if I ever found him, he'd recognize me right away. I just wanted him to know who I am.” She looked down at her left hand; it was strange, yet not distressing, to see it bare. On the contrary, she felt as if she'd worn an iron shackle on that hand for most of her life and now it was gone.

Lavanya pulled her daughter back into her embrace. “I am sure he loved you in his own way, _da'len_. I'll always remember how delighted he was to learn we were expecting. Only he knows for certain why he left. But you mustn't blame yourself for his choices, or spend too long wondering what parts of you are from him. You are so much more than just his daughter.”

“I know, _Mamae_ ,” Arya murmured against her mother's chest. “I'm your daughter, too.”

Lavanya kissed her daughter's forehead. “And you are Arya Surana, however you choose to define that for yourself. Your father and I may have brought you into the world, but you found your own path in it. And I couldn't be prouder of you for that.”

Arya looked up at her mother with misty eyes. “Oh, _Mamae_...all I ever wanted was for you to be proud of me. I know you loved me, but...were you, truly? Did – did I make you –?” She broke off, her voice quivering.

“Of course, _da'len!_ ” Lavanya's answer was immediate. “You could never have made me stop loving you, or being proud of you, any more than you could have stopped being my daughter. You were my pride and joy from the moment you were born, and it shall always be thus.”

“ _Mamae_...” Arya choked out, the need for further words disappearing as she buried herself in her mother's arms. After some time – how much, neither could have guessed – she spoke again, her voice muffled. “I just wish I could have done more for you when we were alive.”

Lavanya pulled her daughter back to look at her, holding her by the shoulders. “Listen, Arya _._ When you were born, and even when you were taken from me, all I ever hoped was that you would live a full life. That you would grow to stand on your own two feet, that you would learn to harness your gifts – and more than just your magical ones – that you would love without reservation, and that you would experience all life has to offer and leave your mark on the world. Every mother wants that for her child. If you did all of that...then you did more for me than you can ever know.”

“I did, _Mamae_.” Arya nodded without hesitation. She was quiet for a few moments, reflecting. “In just one year, I traveled the length and breadth of Ferelden. I saved lives. I _know_ I helped others. I traveled with some of the best people I've ever known.” She smiled sadly. “I even fell in love and was loved back. I did more living in one year than some do all their lives.”

Lavanya nodded. “Indeed, _da'len_. You are wise to recognize that.” She sighed. “I only wish you could have had longer to do so.”

Arya looked her mother in the eye, still smiling wistfully. “Twenty years is more than many get, _Mamae_. Some are not even blessed with one.”

“True enough, sadly.” The two women fell silent, thinking about the far too many children in the alienage who had not survived infancy or been stillborn, robbed of the gift of life before they had even had a chance to experience it. Lavanya spoke first. “But now I want to hear about your life, as I am sure you want to know about mine. We have a long journey ahead, and time enough to talk about it.”

“Journey? You mean, to there?” Arya glanced at the dark city looming in the distance. Somehow it didn't feel as far away as it had when she'd first arrived, though she'd no idea how far she'd traveled or if she'd even made any progress at all.

Lavanya nodded. “You feel it calling to you as well? Since I came here, all I have known is that I would need to go there eventually. But I did not feel the call, the pull, until I laid eyes on you just now. I do not know what we will find when we get there. But I have faith we will be looked after, and we will find peace.”

Arya squeezed her mother's hand. “As long as we are together, _Mamae_ , nothing else matters. And when you don't know what lies ahead, you should just make the most of the time you take to get there.”

“Indeed, _da'len_ ,” Lavanya said warmly. “I imagine you know that better than anyone.”

“Do you...” Arya paused, trying to control her emotions. “Do you think we can wait there? That we won't have to go in right away?”

Her mother looked at her tenderly. “I imagine so, my darling. I have always believed that the Maker, or whatever forces control this world and the one before, would make our afterlife what we needed. And if what you need is to wait for someone before you can go ahead...then that is what we shall do.”

“But _Mamae_ , you've waited so long already. Is it really fair to you to make you wait longer?”

Lavanya put an arm around her daughter. “ _Da'len_ , if time existed here, I would have waited till the end itself for you. All that has ever mattered to me is your happiness, and if what would give you peace is to wait for the ones you love, then I will wait with you.” She smiled. “Besides, I'd love to meet them.”

“Oh, thank you, _Mamae_.” Arya hugged her mother fiercely. Lifting her head, she asked another question. “Do you think...do you think they'll be angry with me? Do you think they'll be all right till we meet again?”

“Let me answer your questions with another, my dear,” her mother said. “When you were around to tell and show them, did they know how much they were loved?”

Arya did not answer right away, thinking not only of the letters and tokens she'd quietly organized for distribution the night before the final battle, but of the many laughs she'd shared with all of them, the tears they'd shed together, the battles they'd fought in, the vows of loyalty they'd made both spoken and silent. The many wonderful memories they were undoubtedly comforting themselves with now. They knew. They'd always known. She'd made sure of that.

“Yes, _Mamae_.” She nodded slowly. “We loved each other well.”

“Then they will find a way to go on, _da'len_ , as you once did. When it was my time, my only wish was that you would know how much I loved you and always had; I knew that would give you some measure of peace in my absence. So it shall for your loved ones as well. They may be angry at first, but the pieces of your heart that you shared will always be with them – and even death cannot take those away.”

“I understand,” Arya said after a few moments. “You're right, _Mamae_.”

Lavanya began to laugh, and Arya soon joined her. “A mother always is.”

They stayed wrapped in each other's arms for some time, before pulling apart just to look at each other again.

“What would you like to do now?” Lavanya asked her daughter.

“Well, as much as I'd love to tell you about everything...I just want to rest first, just for a little while. Can we do that?”

“Of course, _da'len_. We can rest for as long as you need to. Come with me.”

Mother and daughter found a spot under a nearby tree, sheltered by the mist. Lavanya sat down and held out her arms. Arya gratefully curled up next to her, resting her plaited head in her mother's lap.

“Rest well, _da'len_. I will be here when you wake up.”

“I know, _Mamae_. Thank you. I love you.”

“And I love you, my precious girl.”

Lavanya's small, graceful fingers stroked her daughter's hair, running lightly over each ebony plait. As Arya's tired, reddened eyes slipped closed and her breathing deepened, her mother began to sing again, a melody she had known since childhood, and one she had sung to her only child from the night she was born:

“ _Hahren na melana sahlin_

_emma ir abelas_

_souver'inan isala hamin_

_vhenan him dor'felas_

_in uthenera na revas..._ ”

 

“ _Motherhood: All love begins and ends there.”_

_~ Robert Browning_

**Author's Note:**

>  _Thank you so much for reading! Hope you enjoyed. :)_  
>  _Incidentally, both Arya and her mother have Sanskrit names. I don't know for sure what real-world languages, if any, inspired Elvish, but I'm willing to bet Sanskrit was one of them. The couple words of Elvish are translated in-story, but to save you a trip to the Wiki, I'll put the translation for the first verse of “In Uthenera” here:_  
>  “elder your time is come  
> now I am filled with sorrow  
> weary eyes need resting  
> heart has become grey and slow  
> in waking sleep is freedom...”  
>  _I covered maybe three-quarters of what I was hoping to and this still turned out longer than planned. Go figure, huh? So, here: have David Gaider's favorite kind of ending (according to him) – the bittersweet variety – on me._  
>  _Rest well, my little lamb._


End file.
